


Grimm & Supernatural [ crossover ]

by lando_cal_rice_ian



Category: Grimm (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lando_cal_rice_ian/pseuds/lando_cal_rice_ian
Summary: a late night visit to the woods ends in the most awkward first meeting of the century





	Grimm & Supernatural [ crossover ]

**Author's Note:**

> hello my darlings!  
> this is just a fic from my tumblr imagines blog and wattpad based on a requested imagine from the former~  
> hope you enjoy! xx

The breath of the earth caressed your skin; but it was not soothing. It felt as if a menacing entity lurked in the eerie darkness, close to your silhouetted form, breathing against your face. A shudder crawled down your spine. You were accustomed well enough to these late night hunts, but never before, even in your colourful experiences, had you seen such a corpse like _that_.

“Gruesome,” Cas had simply murmured when he handed Dean the photographs – secretly stolen from the police department.

Portland, Oregon, was not much of a family friendly location, it seemed.

“I don’t think even dad came across something like this before,” you heard Dean say to Sam somewhere between the trees.

Leaves rustled ominously. In the embrace of shadows, the branches, dancing in the wind as if mocking you, looked awfully intimidating. A sigh left your lips; as Cas’s flashlight flickered across your form your breath became visible in the frigid air; your own flashlight had left you at the mercy of the darkness when the batteries died and betrayed you.

Sounding weary, Sam said, “Maybe we should go to the police, Dean. We need more information. [Y/N] and I should see the body.”

Having been medically trained as a nurse (an extraordinary one, in fact), the team felt lucky to have you as a member. In the end, after discovering that the supernatural were not mere stories, you had left behind a – potentially dull – life in the medical field, and become a hunter alongside the Winchesters.

“Great,” Dean muttered. He stared at the tree, where splattered like paint across the bark was the victim’s blood, his eyebrows knitted. “Great…”

The wind whispered. A branch cracked, nearby, in the darkness. You all froze. Expecting the worst, erratically your heart pounded; cautiously, you turned toward the direction of the sound. You waited; eyes wide; flashlight raised as if it were a weapon. Two beams of light flickered between the trees. Voices drifted towards the four of you; but no words could yet be discerned.

As they neared – Cas appeared at your side, his hand reassuringly upon your arm – one word could finally be heard: _wesen_.

The sound of a click, the safety being turned off on a gun, caused you to look over your shoulder. With eyes intensely staring into the dark, Dean held his gun up – a small pout of concentration on his face. His eyes found yours and he motioned for you to get behind him and Sam. But, before you could move, light flooded your form; you stood like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“Oh, hello there,” came a concerned male voice. “Are you okay? I hope you’re not lost?”

His beam of light moved from you to Cas, and then to the Winchester brothers. Dean’s gun glinted in the light.

“Oh, damn. Nick!”

Footfalls hurried towards your group. Dean began to shout. The man in front of you waved his arms in surrender, his voice betraying his panic. Sam’s flashlight revealed his face: kind and gentle, even when he was frightened.

A new face appeared before you. The man breathed heavily – having sprinted hastily at his companion’s call. Dark hair fell across his forehead; his eyes, bright and alive, suspiciously studied you and your group – they were piercing.

“Put your gun down!” he exclaimed. Drawing a gun of his own, the tension in the air only thickened. The barrel faced Dean.

“ _You_ put your gun down,” Dean retorted.

Sam could not control his face; his expression was one of disbelief. He threw his hands up and scoffed at the ridiculous situation.

Looking at the first man, you felt guilty. He was glancing between Dean and his friend, with worry in his eyes. Feeling the need to intervene, you moved to Dean’s side and lowered his gun.

“Do as he says, Dean.”

Incredulously, he stared at you. “What the hell, [Y/N]? Why would you listen to those weirdos?”

“Hey!” called the kind man. He looked flustered. “We’re… we’re not— That’s hurtful, man.”

Dean, apparently feeling the need to argue like a child, crossed his arms and continued, “You’re walking around in the woods at night. What are you doing? Hiding a body? Stalking Little Red Riding Hood?”

The man with the gun faltered for a moment; a chuckle escaped him. He looked towards his friend, smiling, as if there was an inside joke.

“Dean,” you murmured. “ _We’re_ walking through the woods at night too.”

Dean fell silent. From behind you, you heard one of the men burst into laughter.

“Monroe…”

 “I’m sorry,” said the tall, concerned man. “I’m so nervous.”

Sam finally decided to take matters into his own hands. Stepping forward he took out his FBI badge – fraudulent, but of course none of you would confess to such a crime – from his coat. Monroe shone his flashlight at Sam, carefully so as not to blind him.

“I’m sorry that we’ve met under such terrible circumstances, and I also apologise for my partner’s _immaturity_.” Sam shook his head at Dean; Dean made an exaggerated shrug. “I’m Agent Bonham and this is Agent Jones,” he motioned at Dean, “and this is Agent Middleton and Agent Frehley, our medical examiners.”

You all showed them your badges (you made sure that Cas’s was not upside-down).

“Wow. FBI agent, eh?” Monroe smiled. “I’m sure the extra help will be useful, right, Nick?”

“ _Extra help_?” Dean raised a brow.

Nick, the man with the – now lowered – gun, removed something from his jacket and held it up for your group to see.

“Detective Nick Burkhardt.” An introduction that made Dean’s face fall; though it was for a second, Nick was quick and noticed it. “The world must be highly coincidental. How strange that you all have names linked to famous band members. John Bonham and John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin. Paul Frehley from Kiss.” His gaze shifted upon you. “Are you related to Kate Middleton?”

Like Monroe, you began to feel nervous. Where he laughed, you decided to _imitate –_ quite badly – _an exaggerated posh accent._ “Yes, indeed I am…”

It was as if you couldn’t stop yourself. Even as you saw the faces of your companions become bewildered, and Nick smirk in amusement, it still came out.

“Nice accent.” Monroe’s reassurance and empathetic smile soothed your inner turmoil.

“Thank you,” you muttered, traces of the accent, much to your horror, still remaining. If only the darkness of the woods could once more swallow you whole.

“This is _my_ case,” Nick continued. He watched as alarm swept across the three faces before him (Cas was busy staring at Monroe, deep in thought, eyes squinting in concentration). “You haven’t even been to the station. You shouldn’t be in this crime scene.”

“We have higher authority.” Dean, probably riled up from having a gun pointed at him, snapped. Red flushed his cheeks.

“We’re so screwed,” you whispered under your breath.

No longer were you troubled by the woods. It was Nick’s glower which chilled you now. This was a first encounter which would prove to be severely disadvantageous; and this was a detective not to be messed with. Under his scrutiny you felt bare and far too readable – and, oddly, guilty.

Strongly, his voice low and authoritative, Nick spoke. “Tomorrow morning you will come to the station. And we’ll see what happens…”

He took Monroe’s flashlight and shone it at Dean’s face. “For now, _leave my crime scene_.”

Dean, stunned and against his will a little attracted, made to retort but no words left his mouth. Nick, smiling, walked away. Silence commanded the four of you. For a moment, you all just stared after the retreating forms of Nick and Monroe. Monroe turned before disappearing into the shadows and waved goodbye.

Only the wind and the excited leaves could be heard.

“He doesn’t like us very much.” Cas’s pensive remark woke the rest from a daze.

Dean scoffed. “Can you believe that guy?”

You yawned. Cas stared; Sam chuckled; Dean shook his head. “Can we go? I lie better when I get enough sleep.”

“That guy— That guy is _unbelievable_!” Dean continued.

“Careful, Dean,” you warned. “He already has his suspicions. Don’t make it any worse by throwing a fit.”

“Excuse you; I am not throwing a fit,” Dean snapped – as he threw a fit.

From beside you, Cas was once more deep in thought. There was something _odd_ about Monroe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it; but it was as if there lay a hidden face beneath his human one; a form that was as real, if not more so, than his humanity. _Wesen_ ; the word played again and again in his head.

“[Y/N]’s right, Dean.” Sam’s gentle voice managed to calm his brother. “We have to be more cautious.”

Cas seemed to snap awake. “Throwing a fit?” He looked worriedly at Dean, accidentally shining his flashlight in his face. Dean seemed to flail around – an amusing sight for both you and Sam.

“Is Dean well?” Cas continued. “Should we go to the hospital?”

The three of you replied, “No, Cas…”

As you walked back to the impala, Cas trying to inspect Dean, you realised how exhausting this case was going to be. It would require a great deal of patience and determination; and, against Detective Burkhardt’s doubts, lots of lying. But no matter how difficult it was going to be, hunters never gave in; lives were in danger. Similarly, unbeknownst to the four hunters, it was the duty of a Grimm. For now, all you wanted was to lie down and sleep for as long as Sleeping Beauty did.


End file.
